


A Kinder, Gentler Future

by DevilsPetGoat



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Adultery, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Het, Hurt/Comfort, I am going to hell, Loneliness, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6017623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilsPetGoat/pseuds/DevilsPetGoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hillary Clinton thought she knew how the world worked.  And then she realized how wrong she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kinder, Gentler Future

(Didn’t happen, past, present or future, thank god.)

Part 1:  Bill

She had been a young, sweet, pretty girl once.  An idealist, out to save the world.  And then she left law school and got married.  Then she learned how the world really worked.

_Sex brought power.  Power brought money.  Money brought what little comfort it gave you._

It had started out so well.  Bill had followed her around, literally begged her to marry him.  They had spent their honeymoon in each other’s arms, him addicting her to his voice, his hands, his mouth, his cock inside her.  Lying on satin sheets, gloriously happy, on top of the world that they would rule together.

And then, it all stopped.  His lovely, hardworking, adored wife, the mother of his daughter, was too good to be subjected to his low, perverted desires.  She suffered years, no, decades of withdrawal.  And like an addict denied his drug, she became vicious, angry.  She had affairs with other men, screamed at her aides, cried for hours, even slapped him.  But none of it made her bad enough to be fucked again.

And so, when he came home, half drunk and smelling of cheap perfume, lipstick all over his collar like an old fifties cliché, she would go out and buy herself something, anything.  A Chanel suit, perfume, jewelry.  He was so blatant about it now she could go through her closet and jewelry box and put a name to half the things that were in there.  And still she loved him so much she couldn’t leave.  The long ago memory of their love was so sealed in her brain and controlled her that much.  Some days she didn’t know if she loved or hated him.  Or both.

Part II: Henry

There was one day, one night, when the hatred won, and she almost left him.  Almost.

_This was how the world worked,_ her mind told her. _Sex brought power.  Power brought money.  Money brought what little comfort it could._

And she stayed.

The Christmas before Bill became President of the United States the two of them spent the holiday with former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and his wife Nancy.  The lavish dinner, the wine was wonderful.  And for the first time in a long while, Bill held her hand and smiled down at her.  Her heart gave a leap in her chest.

Of course she knew why they were there.  Bill had been Governor of Arkansas for several years and knew how to govern domestically, but the pundits whined about the president’s most important duty, his foreign policy.  He had to be spoken for by the men who had acted for America’s interest throughout the world, who made sure the oil and the money continued flowing into the hands of American corporations and banks.

And when Bill smiled up at Kissinger, and said: “I hope we can count on your support, sir.”  Kissinger did not say a word.  He merely stared at Hillary, his ice cold, toad like eyes boring right through her.  It took both of them a good five minutes to catch on. 

_I will give you power, if you give me what is yours._

_No._  She thought. _Don’t ask it of me, Bill.  I can’t. I can’t._

Bill looked down at her.  _This is how the world works, Hillary._  

She got up, her own force of will stopping her legs from trembling under her. She couldn’t do this, and yet she was going to.

She went with Kissinger.  The bedroom was lit by several lamps and a large mirror took up one entire wall.  On the outside she was calm, on the inside she trembled with terror as he undressed her, she making no move to help him, trapped inside her own head.  She stared into the mirror as she knelt down on the bed.  Kissinger’s cold, wrinkled hands caressed her, pinching her.  Her breathing, increased by her fear, brought a rush of oxygen to her brain and brought on arousal, and that was the worst part, being wet when he entered her or his hands stroking her in front, bringing her pleasure in her own violation.  He smiled behind her, hearing the despair under her cries.

Over the following weekend, and for many years after that, for once had been enough to establish his dominance over them, he gave her advice on how to negotiate, how to suppress her own compassion, how to take control of others.  Slowly, her ambition and practicality formed a scab over the hole in her heart.  She bought a new house and supervised its decoration.  And the house had a name, too.

Part 3: Bernie

It was unbelievable.  In 2008, she had lost.  But if she supported Obama, she knew, she could win over his voters and earn back what was hers.

New Hampshire was nothing. She had told herself.  Nothing.  He was a Senator from Vermont, for hell’s sake.  And she had the superdelegate votes to come out ahead in the end.

But then Nevada went to him.  And he came out ahead on Super Tuesday.  Ahead!  And then more states.  And now California was gone, too.  And the superdelegates were changing their vote.  Stabbing her in the back.

She was…. _she was losing._ To Bernie Sanders and his legions of barely old enough to vote brats.

The words that were said online hit her like a ton of bricks. _Bought and paid for by Goldman Sachs.  Dishonest.  Untrustworthy. Warmonger. Where’s my dollar, Maddi?_ And then when she had snarled at Sanders back in February: “Where do you get your advice on foreign policy?  I’d really like to know.”  And he had snarled back: “Not from Henry Kissinger!” 

It was as if he had reached across the stage and ripped the scab off her heart.  _Didn’t they know how the world worked?  Didn’t he?  Didn’t he ever have to lie, cheat, steal, sleep with another man’s wife?  How dare he!_

The way the world worked.  The only trick she had left.  _Sex brought power._ Beneath all that idealism and self-righteousness was still a man.  If she could seduce him into making her his VP…he was old.  He might die, and she would then get what she wanted. What was rightfully hers. 

After the convention, when everything was over, and she had been informed that Dr. Jane Sanders was having drinks with some friends in the bar downstairs, Hillary walked across the guarded hallway where she and Bernie were staying, ready to make her move.  She coolly stared down the Secret Service men as she tapped on his door.

And the door opened.  And there was Jane.  Hillary backed away from the door, feeling her cheeks burning scarlet as Bernie’s wife looked right through her.  As if she knew what she was trying to do and had come upstairs to catch her at it.  And then Jane walked forward, took Hillary in her arms and drew her into the room.  She embraced her for a long while, forgiveness glowing in her eyes, and Hillary began to cry.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Jane asked kindly, and kissed her.  Her lips were warm and smooth, and her hands rubbed up and down Hillary’s back.  She was plump and sweet, pressed against Hillary like a pillow.  Jane broke the kiss, and Hillary saw Bernie sitting in a chair by the window.  He looked amused and turned on by his wife kissing his rival, and waved his hand towards the bed.  “If you want to stay, that is.”  He said to Hillary.  

Hillary made no objection, only blushed again.  He was asking her?  She had no idea what to say for once.   Jane took Hillary’s hand and drew her towards the bed, taking her silence for consent.   Pushing her gently on to the bed, she removed Hillary’s suit jacket and pants and then went to work removing her own clothes.  Hillary closed her eyes for a moment (Was she ever going to stop blushing tonight?)  and then opened them and stripped off the rest of her clothes.  Something was different here, that she hadn’t felt before. 

Jane kissed her again on the lips, tasting her.  The kiss tasted of Kahlua and cream and sweetness.  She kissed her way down Hillary’s neck and chest, and took one of her nipples into her mouth, gently sucking it to an aroused peak.  Hillary gasped, seeing Bernie watching them, his eyes glazing over with desire behind his glasses, the bulge in his pants becoming more pronounced.  Jane laid Hillary back on the bed, her head cuddled among the pillows.  She kissed her belly and then was spreading Hillary’s legs open and pushing her talented tongue into her.  She licked at the wetness, tasting her, salty and sweet.  And then, pushing two of her fingers where her mouth had been, she ran her tongue up to Hillary’s clit, kissing and licking with determination as her fingers thrust gently in and out of Hillary’s body. 

Hillary’s panting breaths solidified into moans and cries.  Her head came up and her eyes locked with Bernie’s as her climax hit her and she nearly screamed, not caring who heard her or what they thought.  Her head slumped back against the pillows, and she moaned with happiness.

Smiling at her, Jane crawled up on the bed to lie beside Hillary and then took her on her lap.  Hillary leaned back against Jane, feeling warm and safe as Jane rubbed her shoulders, whispering words of encouragement and kindness.  Bernie rose from his chair, looking at Hillary again for a long moment.  When she knew what he wanted from her, she nodded her consent.  Only then did he strip off his clothes, remove his glasses, and crawl on to the bed with them and atop them, gently pushing Hillary back against Jane.  Kissing her husband over Hillary’s shoulder, Jane reached down and guided him inside Hillary.

It was strange, it was amazing, being sandwiched between the two of them, Bernie thrusting her against Jane and Jane pushing her back against him.  She should have felt trapped, but she felt loved, warm and safe.  They surrounded her, and he filled her, and pleasure built inside her once more, through her, to a warm, glorious peak.  And she cried out again, just before Bernie reached his climax, one hand on Hillary’s waist and one hand grasping his wife’s. 

Jane disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a couple of warm washcloths.  She cleaned Hillary, the warmth feeling good, and then her husband, kissing him.  Their eyes opened, glowing with love and affection for each other.

_I deserved better from the beginning._ Hillary thought.  And fell asleep.

Happy Valentines and President’s Day to everyone.  May you find true love and a good, compassionate leader.  And thank you to Chris Hayes for the wonderful idea of a Bernie sandwich.  Love always, DPG.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
